


Fleeting Distraction

by Mertiya



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Dragons, Fear of Heights, Fluff and Smut, Flying, Multi, OT3, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychic Bond, Psychic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sorin and Nahiri are enjoying each other's company, and Ugin wakes up to join in the fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleeting Distraction

Sorin woke to find Nahiri’s hand sneaking down the inside of his trousers.  It was full darkness, and the moon was rising above them.  Beneath them, Ugin’s massive sides moved up and down with his breathing, turned rhythmic in sleep.

            Nahiri’s face was illuminated white in the silver moonlight, and she was suppressing laughter.  Sorin gasped as her hand moved up and down, then reached up and grabbed her arm, yanking her down on top of him into a messy kiss.  She tried to pull her hand away, but he held her down easily.  “Oh no,” he murmured.  “You started this.  You can finish it.”

            Nahiri laughed again, then moaned into his mouth as he slid a hand between her thighs.  She was wearing a fur vest and skirt, having apparently changed out of her heavy—and slightly more practical—trousers at some point before waking him.  Sorin grinned at her, exposing his fangs.  “Do be careful,” he said.  “I might bite.”

            She smiled in response, the pupils of her eyes dilating strongly.  He could smell the sudden rush of blood to her face, feel the increased pounding of the pulse in her hand against his shaft, and it made him swallow a gasp again.  “Aren’t you afraid my blood might be too strong for you?” she asked, sounding almost serious.  Only the faintest tilt at the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

            Sorin let her take her hand back, and then swiftly grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, pulling her back against him.  Her skirt hiked up around her waist, and he thrust once between her thighs, brushing against her entrance.  She gasped and leaned back against him, and he drew his tongue slowly from the base of her throat to her ear, growling, “Aren’t you afraid?”

            Nahiri nodded solemnly.  “Of many things,” she replied.  “Not of you, you old leech.”

            He hissed at her, trying to disguise his laughter and failing miserably.  He lathed his tongue across her throat again, and she did not bother to disguise the moan that fell from her lips.  He waited for a moment, mouthing across her throat, and she pulled them forward until he was in a better position to enter her.  Her throat slipped and slid beneath his lips, and the rush of beating blood beneath it was oddly tantalizing.  His fangs were tugging with desire, a desire he was sometimes uninclined to give in to, but here and now—it would be pleasurable.

            He thrust into her soundlessly before sinking his fangs into her throat.  Little convulsions ran through her body, and the smell of blood burst into the air.  The little sobs of breath she gave inflamed his desire, and he moved inside her, grunting around a mouthful of blood.

            Nahiri’s blood tasted golden and full of life, belying the pallor of her kor-white skin.  Rocking back against him, she reached for his hand with one of hers and caught at it, nails digging into the flesh, but still—the gesture was a surprising one.

            “Are you two fornicating again?”  Ugin’s voice rumbled sleepily up from underneath them.  Sorin, mouth full, could not respond.  Nahiri gasped and laughed guiltily.

            “Um, we didn’t mean to wake you up,” she said, her voice breathy as Sorin, shrugging, continued to thrust.

            “Are you fornicating _on top of me_?”

            Sorin laughed against Nahiri, then forced her down against Ugin’s hide.

            “If I say ‘no’,” Nahiri began.

            _And without me.  How rude_.  Ugin’s voice slipped from physically audible to mentally audible with barely a pause.  Beneath his knees, Sorin felt the dragon’s muscles flex, and then Ugin had propelled himself from the cliff where they had been sleeping into the air, his great wings beating heavily.  Nahiri shrieked in surprise, then laughed, the vibrations traveling through Sorin’s body, and he shut his eyes and drank in the sensation—and tried to ignore the sudden lurch of horror in the pit of his stomach.

            He felt the touch of Ugin’s mind unfold in his own, the dragon’s breath already ragged, and then Nahiri’s mind joined them as Ugin pulled her in as well.  Sorin moaned into her shoulder at the sudden overwhelming rush of sensation. 

            The strangest thing was the warping of the sense of scale.  Sorin and Nahiri were nothing but the slightest weight against Ugin’s back, while simultaneously being the same size.  The heavy wind that blew across the dragon’s wings was shielded to become the merest trickle of air over Sorin’s and Nahiri’s heads.  And there was the peculiar feeling of being joined, Sorin inside Nahiri, but with the feelings flowing back and forth, the sensation was blurred into a hot ache in both of them.  Sorin’s teeth were twin pinpricks of pain in everyone’s shoulder, but they could all taste the sweetness of Nahiri’s blood.

            Ugin’s laugh rumbled through their heads, and phantom hands twined around Sorin and Nahiri, sliding across backs, ruffling hair, then mischievously creeping up thighs.  Sorin felt a deep moan vibrate through him, and one of the hands slid up between his legs and entered him, as another one teased at Nahiri.  Damn Ugin, Sorin thought distractedly, as he keened and bucked inside Nahiri.  He could always get underneath the vampire’s skin, he and Nahiri teasing out dormant feelings that Sorin thought he had all but eradicated.

            Sorin, still shuddering and moving with Nahiri, her own shudders running through him and herself in an echoing, resonant well of pleasure, managed to seize control of one of the hands on his shoulder, turn it around and send it back toward the dragon.  Ugin’s wingbeats stuttered in the air for a second, sending an unpleasant jolt of fear through Sorin.

            _You do know dragons mate in the air_.  Ugin’s mind-voice was breathless and distracted.

            Nahiri laughed and responded out loud.  “Yes, I’ve seen them diving about, entwined.”

            Sorin swallowed blood and extracted his fangs from Nahiri’s shoulder.  “D-diving?”  He was extremely irritated to hear the slight hesitation in his voice.

            _It takes a lot of—ah—fine motor control to fly, you know_.

            As Sorin paused, warring with himself, Nahiri leaned backward and began to move, seizing control of Ugin’s mind-hand from Sorin, leaving both males breathless and gasping.  The fear tugging at Sorin’s mind was swallowed up in the moving heat of her and the soft caresses of the dragon, as the smell of her blood stripped him of what little rationality he had left. 

            _Nahiri_ , sighed Ugin, and she echoed the moan with the dragon’s name.

            Irritated, Sorin reached around her, his hand passing through the psychic hand with a strange tingle, and slid to the point above where he was thrusting into her.  Nahiri shuddered and moaned, and the spirit hand twining about Ugin stuttered in its motion.  The dragon moaned as well, and fire sparked as Nahiri’s orgasm surged through the other two.  Ugin clapped his wings together and dove, and Sorin cried out, raw and hoarse and fearful, before he could stop himself, even as the heat and the friction and one last little crook from the psychic hand inside him pulled him over the edge into climax as well.

            Spinning cold and night air rushing past.  The burning heat of Ugin’s orgasm, following close in the wake of Nahiri’s and his own, so that all three were almost the same long, extended moment of bliss, but twined around with the frustrating, irrational terror clawing at his heart and lungs.  He felt Ugin’s back fall out from underneath himself and Nahiri, and he couldn’t even shut his eyes to look away, because the other two would know.

            Torn between embarrassment and frustrated terror, Sorin fell.  Nahiri was yelling, but, still connected to her by a thin tendril from Ugin, he could feel that she was yelling with excitement, not with fear.  He ground his teeth together and stared up at the rapidly-dwindling moon, trying to keep the contents of his stomach from escaping.

            Ugin laughed, the sound echoing through their heads and ears.  “Scared?” he asked Sorin, and then he slewed round in the air.  Sorin and Nahiri fell onto his back in a heap and were carried upward again as the dragon began to climb.

            “Of course I was not afraid,” Sorin said crossly, once his breathing had started to calm down.

            Nahiri slowly disentangled herself from him.  Turning, she gave him a look of patent disbelief, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.  “Of course you weren’t,” she said.

            Ugin snorted gently, but didn’t say anymore, and the three of them flew onwards through Zendikar’s dark sky.  Sorin, letting Nahiri lean against his shoulder, felt an odd sense of peace.


End file.
